Flashpoint
by AbaddonNox
Summary: One alchemist has his way with another. Simple incendiary devices require a spark, but for the grandest of explosive conflagrations, you need a flame... mangaverse, Kimblee torments/tortures Roy.


Disclaimer: I do not own any aspect of Fullmetal Alchemist, that honor belongs to the great Hiromu Arakawa. Furthermore, the beliefs, events, etc. depicted in this work do not in any way represent the opinions, actions, etc. of the writer. Reader discretion is thusly advised.  
Spoilers: To be safe, all of the manga up through the current chapter 92.  
A/N: This is a mangaverse story, but with liberties and a future-canon, as well as possibly soon to be AU, setting.

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**Flashpoint  
**

"Wake up, Colonel."

When Mustang didn't stir, a tattooed palm lightly slapped his cheek. Dark eyes opened, then quickly narrowed. Cognizant tension toned slack muscles, yet didn't intensify into something humiliating, like a sloppy attack. After a weighty pause, the Colonel's jaw unclenched, but his measured words only wheezed into a gory cough.

"I wouldn't try to speak, if I were you," Kimblee continued, poised over the other man, tone cool.

"Quite a risky maneuver, cauterizing your own throat wound like that. The circumstances afforded few alternatives, but still, I'm rather impressed." He leaned closer, dark locks dangling into Mustang's shorter ones. "It's been a long time, hasn't it, Flame Alchemist?" Kimblee's expression deepened into a mirthless smile. "Thus, for old-times sake, I'll brief you on the situation, and in particular, your condition."

"That shoulder ..." He pointed at Mustang's limp left arm before bringing his hands together, and crouching to touch the ground. Flooring didn't explode under the alchemical assault, as much as erupt into a crude wall. It engulfed the specified limb, jerking Mustang to his feet. "... is dislocated. This leg ..." Kimblee rose slowly, brushing exposed bone. "... is obviously broken, and this other one ..." Hands lingered on the Colonel's unmarred thigh until flesh swelled with a sickening pop. "... is now."

Once upright, Kimblee pinned Mustang's other wrist to the impromptu wall. He pressed closer, shifty mercury eyes staring into darker orbs clouded with killing intent more than pain, but then lurched, calculated distance crumbling. Fingers dug painfully into the immobilized arm as he collapsed against its owner, chasing after stolen breath.

"As you can see, I'm not so well myself," Kimblee whispered tautly into the Colonel's neck, pulse still fluttering. "That wily gatekeeper definitely took his toll. Or maybe he thought I was already heartless." Kimblee chuckled, lips curling against ruined flesh. "No matter, if they had bothered to apprise me of the benefits, I would've become one of their so-called _human sacrifices _much earlier."

Strength returning, he lifted himself away from his captive, but not too much. The prisoner needed to be kept close – privacy invaded so he stayed on edge, angry, prone to error, malleable.

"Which brings us to you, Colonel, the great Flame Alchemist." Tone grandiose, voice regaining leverage and poise along with flesh, Kimblee continued. "Fire is deliciously raw, primal. It can rage and consume, but will never be more than a bloated spark which ate itself into a monster. So unrefined ..."

A finger traced down Mustang's cheek, metallic irises chilling to slate as they looked through him, rather than at him. Kimblee was courting the power, after all, not the man.

"... such wasted potential."

When the Colonel angrily jerked his face out of immediate reach, Kimblee's smile broadened away from a baseline smirk, voice lilting. "Oh, you still don't think we're monsters? Demons, human weapons?" he stated quizzically, eyes shifting back to latch onto Mustang's gaze. "We are to be wielded, Colonel. Embrace your purpose. It's so much easier, and far more enjoyable, if you do."

There was a slight pause as the two men glared at each other, indomitable wills clashing silently. The former Kimblee couldn't help but appreciate. The latter, however, was nothing short of disappointing. He eventually lowered his lids with a heavy exhale.

"But I see I'll have to appeal to your selfish side." _Just like the Fullmetal Alchemist_, Kimblee mused, free hand slipping under the folds of his jacket. Fingers emerged with something crumpled and white, wrist flicking to unfurl it. "You wish to save yourself, yes?" he asked without expecting an answer. "Your men ..." Kimblee added, sliding Mustang's trademark glove onto the man's pinned hand. His own digits slipping between the Colonel's, snugging fabric as well as keeping fingers sheathed in ignition cloth safely from each other. "... and _woman_?"

Eyes to their joined hands, Kimblee didn't see vitriol flare over Mustang's visage. He didn't need to.

"I have a philosopher's stone," he forwarded, purposefully nonchalant. "Right ..." Fingers still weaved, one limb led another to his abdomen, just beneath the ribs. "... there." Kimblee leaned in, hand pressing firmly against stomach. "You know what I saw beyond the gate?" he purred into Mustang's ear. "The future, one that belongs to the sons and daughters of alchemy, homunculi and Elric, not adopted offspring, like ourselves. Yet, that doesn't mean we can't have a bit of fun ..." Eyes returned to his captive's, face snickering before words." ... or go out with a bang."

As laughter drained from his gaze, Kimblee's voice slid into a serious chill. "And so you behave ..." A second tattooed palm settled onto Mustang's chest, just shy of center. This was a trap which needed to be set carefully. Carrot in place, now came the rod. It wouldn't do for the other alchemist to not give his all – attempt something less than lethal, less than magnificent. Nothing but the man's best belonged in the final movement of this spine-tingling symphony.

"Feel that?" Kimblee asked, a few delicate arcs of alchemical energy blossoming over Mustang's torso. " Perhaps not, I've gotten rather adept at intravenous transmutations. nitroglycerin soothes my condition, you see. However, I generally avoid administering it directly into the heart, and certainly never in these concentrations. Explosive alchemy has a wonderful breath of applications. It even surprises me, at times."

Eyes glittering again, mercury excited back to liquid, and even beyond. Kimblee arched his shoulders away a touch, fingers twitching ever so slightly with expectation. If the Colonel felt this, he didn't dignify it with a response. His heart hammered solidly against the offending hand. Will and resolve remained just as steadfast.

"Are you ready, Flame?" Kimblee smiled, one of the truest he ever donned, for the latter was _exactly_ what he had hoped for. "To see which one of us the world favors?"

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A/N: Thank you for getting this far, even though it is horribly short. My Kimblee muse wanted to torture Roy. So, I told him he could, as long as we came up with something vaguely plausible/probable. Not sure I succeeded, and the piece is tragically rough since I didn't want to inflict it on anyone for serious betaing. If you have a minute, please leave me your thoughts/comments. As usual, any and all feedback is love :)


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